


he loves you (he loves you not)

by werealldreaming



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Aromantic Obi-Wan Kenobi, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Sharing a Bed, Some angst, Trope Subversion/Inversion, Unrequited Love, but the unrequited love isn't tragic i promise, something of a mission fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29135610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werealldreaming/pseuds/werealldreaming
Summary: "Who's your companion?" the man asks."This is Jango," he says, not adding his last name. They have a false one, a name Jango sometimes uses in undercover missions when he doesn’t want to risk being recognized as theMand’alor’sson, but better if they can avoid using it. "He's my husband."The man frowns down at his datapad, then looks up to study Jango. "I wasn't expecting you to come with a partner, Master Jedi."or, jangobi fake dating au, but make it aromantic. Written for AroWriMo 2021.
Relationships: Jango Fett & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 143
Collections: AroWriMo 2021, Coming Up Aces





	he loves you (he loves you not)

**Author's Note:**

> so, hi. this was written for [AroWriMo 2021](https://arowrimo.tumblr.com)! technically not written for any of the prompts (or the week 4 prompt of non-romantic relationships), but i didn't want to wait to post it, so you get it on the first of the month instead
> 
> a few notes: this is set in some kind of canon au where jango and obi-wan are friends (assume jedi/mandalorian relations are better than in canon), and anakin gets sent to the creche for a few years before getting taken as obi-wan's padawan. 
> 
> also: this does have an aromantic character put into romantic-adjacent situations that he's not really comfortable with, including being asked out, so do be aware of that.

_ You're on the guest list for Senator Ruus' wedding. _

Obi-Wan stares down at the message on his comm, utterly confused.  _ I am, _ he sends.  _ Xe invited me. Why are you looking at the Senator's wedding guest list? _

It takes only a minute for his comm to ping again, which is a surprise—Jango is notoriously bad at responding to messages in a timely manner. Then again, the response doesn’t exactly answer his question.  _ Why does a Senator want a  _ jetti  _ at xer wedding? _

_ Master Qui-Gon and I had a diplomatic mission on xer planet a while back, so xe invited me back as thanks _ , Obi-Wan says.  _ It’s a status symbol, mostly. It’s rare to be powerful enough to get a Jedi sent to your wedding.  _

_ Let me guess, it’s just Core planets that do it. _

_ You’d be right about that, _ Obi-Wan says, and then,  _ You still haven’t answered my question. _

_ I have a job. Been trying to figure out a way to get into the party for a few hours now. Any chance you have a way to get me in? _

_ You're not planning on crashing his wedding, are you? _

_ Of course not. _ Obi-Wan can imagine Jango’s mock-offense at the question. The typing status displays for several moments, then:  _ Not unless the job goes downhill _ .

Obi-Wan rubs the bridge of his nose.  _ Darling, that's hardly reassuring. _

_ Don't worry _ , Jango sends.  _ It's an intel job. Should be smooth. You don’t have to worry about a thing. _

_ I do appreciate how you’ve assumed I’ll find a way to get you into the party, _ Obi-Wan teases.

_ Of course I have. I know you. _

_ I'll look into it, _ Obi-Wan tells him, shaking his head. He’s right, of course. He and Jango may have very different methods of how they go about most of their goals, but they always help each other when they can.  _ I’m sure there's some loophole I can exploit. _

—

“So,” Jango says, stabbing at his pasta with a fork, “You found a way to get me in?”

They’re on Jango’s ship, though it’s still docked on Coruscant. Obi-Wan had messaged Jango to tell him what he’d found, and to Obi-Wan’s surprise, Jango had sent him his ship’s berth and a quick  _ Meet over latemeal? _

Obi-Wan was hardly going to turn that down. He doesn’t get to meet with Jango often, and though he knows they’re going to be spending the wedding together, a mission’s not exactly the same as socializing.

“I did,” he says, poking at his own food. The takeout joint Jango had chosen is good, but he’s not really in the mood for eating. “It’s rather unconventional, I’m afraid. The Selia don’t have a typical plus-one tradition for their formal events.”

“What, is it only for personal servants or something?”

“No,” Obi-Wan says. If only it were that simple—servants would also be forgotten about, letting Jango complete his tasks without other guests wondering where he was. “It’s restricted to spouses.”

Jango chokes on his drink. “ _ What? _ ”

“I believe it is due to the fact that the Selia often have multiple romantic partners, so it was a way to limit the number of unexpected guests at events,” Obi-Wan says. “But yes, that was my reaction as well.”

That is, perhaps, an understatement. Jango just seems surprised, but Obi-Wan’s first reaction had been something closer to dread; a heaviness that forms in his stomach whenever he imagines playing this part. 

It’s not as if Jedi never get married, or pretend to be married on Council-sanctioned missions. But it’s not something Obi-Wan has done before , and there is something about this that makes him wish he could do anything else.

But Jango has a mission to complete, and Obi-Wan knows that whatever intel he’s gathering, it’s important for stopping some kind of abuse within the galaxy. So he forces himself to release his discomfort as Jango asks, “So, what, we have to pretend to have said the  _ riddurok _ ? We don’t have to pretend to have gotten married  _ on  _ Selia, do we?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “Just married in our culture, since we’re interplanetary guests.”

“Okay,” Jango says. “I think we can do that.”

— 

They spend the two-day hyperspace trip planning for the mission. 

“Are you sure I can’t just wear my armor to the wedding?” Jango complains at one point, after a brief panic about not having clothing that will meet the ceremony’s dress code. 

“Yes, I’m very sure,” Obi-Wan says, laughing. “We are trying not to stand out, after all. I don’t think that breaking the dress code would still fall under that.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Jango says. He’s laughing too, eyes crinkling around the corners. There’s no way he’ll actually do something that will risk the mission, not for something so minor.

It’s the same thing he reminds himself of as they work out the details of their backstory. It’s pretty bare-bones: how they met, how long they’ve been together, how they got married. Obi-Wan usually likes to plan out his missions in advance, but this time he’s glad for Jango’s simpler approach—he might be willing to do this for the sake of the mission, but between his own discomfort about the subject and the awkwardness that Jango projects into the Force, he’d rather avoid the topic as much as possible. 

They arrive the morning of the wedding, just a few hours before it’s set to start. Obi-Wan glances up at the morning sun and thanks the Force that this planet doesn’t run far off of the Republic standard time he’d gotten used to on board the ship.

Obi-Wan hails a speeder-taxi and tells the driver the address of the wedding venue, and the driver looks over the two skeptically for a moment, then shrugs and gestures them on board. 

— 

“Kenobi,” he tells the usher, a rather frazzled-looking young man who looks like he’d rather be doing any other job than this one. Obi-Wan can't blame him—he’s watched the man turn away several people trying to get into the wedding without an invitation. He doesn't know why they bother. The senator’s wedding is rather exclusive, and there's no way that someone would be able to fake their way in.

Except that's exactly what he and Jango are doing, isn't it?

"Who's your companion?" the man asks. 

"This is Jango," he says, not adding his last name. They have a false one, a name Jango sometimes uses in undercover missions when he doesn’t want to risk being recognized as the  _ Mand’alor’ _ s son, but better if they can avoid using it. "He's my husband."

The man frowns down at his datapad, then looks up to study Jango. "I wasn't expecting you to come with a partner, Master Jedi."

Obi-Wan smiles, careful to keep his face open and friendly. “Well, I’ve been told that I live to surprise.”

The man flushes. “Um, yes sir. You two can go ahead, and I’ll be sure to contact the accommodations team to make sure you both have a place to sleep.”

"Thank you very much," Obi-Wan says, and the two of them move through the arched entryway into the courtyard.

The wedding courtyard is already filled with people, though most are crowded around one area, where Senator Ruus and xer spouse—Chana, Obi-Wan thinks their name is—are standing, accepting congratulations. They’re easy to spot, their richly colored robes standing out against the crowd of guests in white. 

Jango eyes the crowd dubiously as they approach. “Can we just wait for a bit?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “We’re relatively high-profile guests—or at least, I am. Our presence has already been noted.”

Sure enough, much of the crowd parts for the two of them once they recognize the cut of Obi-Wan’s Jedi robes, and it takes only a moment for the senator to greet them.

“Master Jedi! It is lovely to see you here.”

“Congratulations, Senator,” Obi-Wan says, bowing. “From both of us.”

“Thank you, Master Jedi. Obi-Wan Kenobi, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Senator.”

Ruus inclines xer head. “I must thank you for coming,” xe says. “It’s an honor, truly.”

Xer spouse nods. “I am glad you are here,” they say. They have an accent that Obi-Wan doesn’t recognize—it’s not similar to any of the standard accents he commonly hears around the galaxy. “You are very kind to come.”

“It’s no trouble,” Obi-Wan is quick to assure. “We’re very happy to be here.”

Ruus addresses Jango next. “And Master Kenobi is your spouse?”

“Yes,” Jango says. He wraps an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist, and Obi-Wan very carefully does not tense. “I’m very lucky—I rarely get to accompany him when he’s performing his duties as a  _ jetti _ .”

Ruus smiles. “Well, I’m glad I have given you an opportunity to spend time with your spouse,” xe says. “I can see you two are very happy together."

“Ah, I do apologize, Master Kenobi, but could I ask you a personal question?” Chana interjects.

“Certainly.”

“Well…” they hesitate. “I was under the impression that Jedi could not marry.”

Ah. Obi-Wan shakes his head. “That’s a myth, Senator, though a common one. Jedi  _ are _ allowed to be in relationships, it’s just rare. And many Jedi relationships are kept private, as there are some in the Order who look down on those who decide to date or marry.”

“Nothing that’s impacted the two of you too much, I hope,” Ruus says, and Obi-Wan is quick to assure xem that no, he and Jango are very happy together. The lies are sour on his tongue, but he ignores it. It’s just a part of the mission.

\--

Formalities finished, the two of them excuse themselves. They end up taking a walk around the courtyard and surrounding areas that the wedding will be taking place in.

“So what happens now?” Jango asks. “Seems like Ruus will be busy with xer guests for a while.”

Obi-Wan nods. “The first ceremony isn’t until sundown. Until then, people are expected to just…mingle, I suppose. Traditionally, this would be a day of rest for the families of the intended.”

“Sundown?” Jango glances up at the sun, high in the sky. “It’s midday.”

“It’s auspicious for major events to happen at midday, sundown, and sunrise,” Obi-Wan explains. “So the wedding begins and ends at high noon, and the main events occur at dusk and dawn. It’s not the most time-efficient tradition, but it is important.”

“Whatever works, I suppose,” Jango says with a shrug. “Gives me more time to do my job.”

Obi-Wan hums an agreement. “What do you need so you can get that done?”

“Well, I’m just doing some casual recon right now,” Jango says. “Getting a read on where to look for some things.” He gestures up one of the windows. “There's a good assassination stakeout point up there.”

"Are we expecting an assassination attempt?" Obi-Wan asks, frowning. Jango had assured him that Senator Ruus’ wedding would go smoothly, and while he doubts that had been a lie, things have a tendency to go wrong around Jango. Or Obi-Wan, for that matter.

Jango shakes his head quickly. "No chance of that," he assures. "I just noticed it, that's all."

"Ah. Well, carry on then," Obi-Wan says. "I do love hearing about your interests, dear."

Jango flushes in surprise, stuttering over his next word. Obi-Wan's not quite sure why - he's told Jango this multiple times before, and he's never been quite so flustered before.

“Yeah, the bedrooms aren’t very secure either,” he says, gesturing at a line of windows and balconies. “Those balconies would be easy to get to, even without a jetpack, and then it would be easy to get in and assassinate someone. I’m not sure if the windows lock, but even then, you could just break them.”

“That does seem like a problem.”

Jango shrugs. “It certainly is something the senator’s security team should be noting. But it’s hardly urgent.” He frowns, glancing away at something that seems to have caught his attention. He tracks it with his eyes for several seconds, then turns to Obi-Wan. “I still have a job to do. Is it alright if I leave for a bit?” 

“Of course,” Obi-Wan. “Actually, this is likely the best time for it. Celebrations are relatively unstructured.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Jango says, and bends down to brush his lips against Obi-Wan’s cheek. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

He disappears into the crowd. Obi-Wan stares after him for several moments, feeling lost. The kiss isn’t something he and Jango do—it must have been entirely for the sake of the cover. He imagines he can feel it burn on his cheek, an intimate gesture that Obi-Wan has never wanted.

\--

One side of the courtyard is set up with tables of food, buffet-style. It’s all somewhat extravagant, with an array of traditional dishes, luxury foods, and carefully-plated desserts. Obi-Wan lingers, taking appetizers and finger foods that are easy to eat. He doesn’t have much of an appetite.

“Oh, are you the Jedi?”

Obi-Wan turns. The speaker is young, likely not even the age of majority, with the same golden complexion as the senator’s spouse, blonde hair twisted half-up in a hairstyle that looks somewhat out of place among the complex braids of the other Selia-native guests. 

“At your service,” he says. “Obi-Wan Kenobi, he/him.”

“Sarai, she/her,” she says. “It’s an honor to meet you, Master.”

“Knight,” Obi-Wan corrects. “I’m not a Master yet.”

Sarai looks somewhat disappointed at that. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s quite alright.” Obi-Wan feels a rush of fondness. He's always enjoyed spending time with younglings, both on missions and in the creche. “Is it your sibling getting married?”

She nods eagerly. “I’m the one who convinced them to pop the question,” she says. “And now they won’t even tell me what they’re planning to burn and make!”

Obi-Wan laughs. “I’m afraid I’m likely the worst person to ask, but I’m sure it will be wonderful, whatever they decide.” Although he’d studied this culture before coming, he’s hardly an expert on the various nuances of their food symbolism, or the personalities of the senator and xer spouse.

“That’s okay,” Sarai says. “If you guessed right I’d be pretty surprised.” She pauses, frowns, then asks, “What about you? What did you burn-slash-make with your husband?”

“Ah, we didn’t…”

“Oh, you’re not Selia.” Sarai blushes. “I’m sorry, sir. I forgot.”

“It’s quite alright,” Obi-Wan assures. “This is the type of marriage you know best, after all.”

Sarai nods. “What did you do, then? What do Jedi marriages look like?”

“Jedi don’t have specific marriage traditions,” Obi-Wan says. “There aren’t really enough of us that marry. Typically, we use the traditions of our home cultures, or the culture of whoever we’re marrying.”

Sarai furrows her brow, confused. “So you…”

“I had a Mandalorian marriage,” Obi-Wan says, “because Jango is Mandalorian. If someone was marrying a Selia, they’d likely have a wedding like this one. Or perhaps their own invention of a ceremony—there are no rules for Jedi marriages.”

“That sounds weird.”

“It might, if I were used to only one type of marriage. But I’ve seen all kinds.” Obi-Wan smiles. 

“What was your marriage like? I mean, I know you said it was Mandalorian, but I don’t…”

“You don’t know what that entails,” Obi-Wan guesses, and Sarai nods, looking embarrassed. “That’s quite alright, dear. Mandalorian marriages are very simple, actually. There are vows, which can be spoken at any time. Once you say them to each other, you’re married. Sometimes there’s a communal meal afterwards, but that doesn’t always happen, especially if vows are said in unconventional circumstances.”

“How did you say your vows?” Sarai asks, and Obi-Wan fights to keep the grimace off his face. He and Jango had decided on a story beforehand, just in case of a situation like this, but he hadn’t wanted to use it. 

“We were in the middle of a firefight,” he tells her. “I saved Jango’s life, and he decided to say the vows right then.” He shakes his head. “It was rather unconventional in quite a few ways.”

It’s a modified version of the story of their first meeting. In reality, it had ended with Jango grumbling about being saved by a  _ jetti _ , and then swearing even more when he’d realized that Obi-Wan spoke Mando’a. 

“That’s so  _ romantic _ , though,” Sarai says, and Obi-Wan can sense longing from her, an almost desperate desire for what she must imagine he has. He feels a stab of discomfort at the idea. 

He doesn’t respond, just hums an acknowledgement. 

“What’s romantic?” someone asks, and Obi-Wan turns. 

It’s Jango. “I was just telling Sarai how we got married,” he tells him, and Jango laughs.

“Yeah, it was quite an experience,” he says fondly.

“I think that summarizes most of the time we’ve known each other, darling,” he tells Jango. 

“You know it does.” Jango wraps an arm around him and pulls him close. “Have you tried the food yet? Wanna recommend something good?”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan says, then smiles at Sarai. “It was lovely talking to you, dear.”

“You as well, sir!”

The girl bounces away, moving on to talk to the next solitary guest.

“She seems nice,” Jango says, and Obi-Wan nods. 

“Chana’s sister,” he explains. “She was curious about our marriage.”

Jango hums. “Good thing we did a cover story, then?”

“You were right, dear,” Obi-Wan says, and sighs. “What about you? How did your data retrieval go?”

“Even more smoothly than I’d hoped for,” Jango says. “It’ll take the rest of the evening to download all the files, so I might check on it sometime tonight. But I don’t think there’ll be problems.”

“That’s good.” At least one part of their mission is going smoothly.

Well, perhaps it would be uncharitable to say that Obi-Wan’s mission is going poorly. He hasn’t caused any kind of diplomatic incident, and his and Jango’s cover hasn’t even been questioned. It’s just uncomfortable, keeping him on edge in a way that he associates with much higher-stakes missions. It’s strange, and not in a good way.

—

Sundown comes surprisingly quickly, and with it, the first part of the marriage ceremony. It’s a burning ceremony, Obi-Wan knows—a ritual burning of things that represent their past lives. 

The fire in the center of the courtyard crackles and hisses as the marriage officiator begins the ceremony. Thankfully, his part is very short: a simple introduction of the spouses, and then he moves to let Ruus and Chana step forward.

They’ve changed into simple, one-piece robes without any decoration. The senator’s is a pale blue, xer spouse’s a barely-visible shade of lilac. They’re each holding a small wooden bowl, which Obi-Wan can’t see into but knows contains a single ingredient.

The senator’s spouse goes first. “Sugarberry. A life ends, and soon another will begin.” They empty the bowl into the fire. 

And then Senator Ruus. “Jambas. A life ends, and soon another will begin.”

The officiator throws something else onto the fire—a sweet-smelling incense, to cover the scent of burning food. “Soon another will begin. Go now, to contemplate how you wish to begin your new lives.”

The pair bow, then link hands and step away from the fire. Once they’re gone, it doesn’t take long for the crowd to begin to dissipate. It’s truly nighttime now, and many are moving inside to their guest rooms. 

Obi-Wan lingers, watching the fire flicker and start to die. Its embers will be kept burning through the night, but for now, it is left alone to start burning out. Dying, just like the lives of Ruus and Chana. It’s only symbolic, he knows, but it’s still oddly frightening to consider that marriage is considered to be such a drastic change in people’s lives. He can’t imagine wanting that.

“Obi-Wan?” Jango touches his arm, bringing his attention away from his thoughts.

“Sorry,” he says. “Just...thinking.”

—

They’re directed to their evening accommodations once the fire burns out. The rooms are clearly expensive—there’s a water shower and fancy soaps to go with it, and decorations that are just skirting the line between tasteful and extravagant. 

There is also...only one bed. Evidently, someone had assumed the two of them would be happy to share.

It’s a reasonable assumption to make, but it’s still a sharply unwelcome reminder of their cover story.

“Well then,” Obi-Wan says, and Jango makes a faintly strangled noise next to him. “This will be interesting.”

“I can take the floor,” Jango suggests, but Obi-Wan shakes his head. 

“There’s no need,” he says. “We can just share.” He pauses, then asks, “Will that be an issue? I believe Mandalorians often shared beds with their fellow  _ verde _ .” They’re not  _ verde _ , not really, but the point still stands.

“Sometimes,” Jango says. “It’s fine. I’m just...surprised.” 

They get ready for bed quickly. Thankfully, neither of them sleep nude, so there is no awkward last-minute search for proper sleep clothes. Obi-Wan has experienced that exactly once, with Quinlan Vos, and he has no desire to repeat the experience.

Even so, he’s hyper-aware of Jango lying next to him. It’s obvious that Jango is as well—they lie next to each other, pointedly ignoring each other, until finally Jango breaks the silence. 

“Is what you said earlier true? About the Order not banning relationships?”

Obi-Wan doesn't respond for a moment. "Ah, yes," he says finally. “That wasn’t a lie. But as I said, it’s rare, especially recently. It’s commonly believed that it is impossible or extremely difficult to be in a relationship without forming dangerous attachments.”

“Oh,” Jango says. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What do you believe about relationships? Do you think they’re dangerous?”

Obi-Wan hums in consideration. “No,” he says. “I think romantic relationships have the potential to be dangerous, but they also have the potential to be very rewarding, and it’s foolish to assume what the consequences of others’ actions are.”

“Huh,” Jango says, and there’s something about his tone that Obi-Wan can’t quite place. He makes a questioning noise, but Jango doesn’t elaborate.

Obi-Wan forces himself to relax, and does his best to release the emotions of the day into the Force. It doesn’t take long for him to slip into sleep.

—

When he wakes, he finds himself all but plastered onto Jango's side, far closer than when he'd been last night.

It's nice, to be so close to another person. Obi-Wan hasn’t slept with another person in his bed since he was in the creche, and he hadn’t realized how much he missed it. He can’t quite bring himself to move away. Not yet.

Still, it doesn’t take long before Jango starts to stir, and then wakes fully. When he realizes the position they're in, he tenses and quickly pulls away, and Obi-Wan pushes himself upright.

"Good morning," he says, and Jango grunts in reply. Obi-Wan laughs—Jango's made it clear many times that he’s not a morning person—then sobers. "Ah, I apologize if I made you uncomfortable."

"Hm?" Jango sits up as well. "Oh. It's okay. You didn't make me uncomfortable."

It’s obviously a lie—even half-awake, Jango is tense, and he’s radiating discomfort into the Force. Obi-Wan frowns, but doesn't press the issue. "Well, we do need to get ready for the day," he says instead. "We still have a few more hours of pretending to be  _ riddure _ , after all."

"Right." Jango sighs, then stands and makes his way to the 'fresher. "Of course it can’t be at a reasonable time, either. Can you put on some caff? Or find someone to bring it, or whatever they do here?"

"Certainly, darling."

—

The final part of the marriage ceremony starts as dawn. It’s bitingly cold, even with the fire that had been kept burning in the middle of the courtyard, and Obi-Wan draws on the Force to keep himself comfortable. 

When the spouses appear, they have once again changed clothes. The colors are still just as pale as their evening wear from the night before, but this time the senator is in a simple skirt and blouse in almost-matching shades of pastel pink. Chana wears the same, though her clothes are a yellow so subtle they’re almost just off-white.

The table they approach has ingredients laid out on it—flour, sugar, butter, and a bowl of berries of some kind. They’re only decorative, though. At a high-status wedding like this, only the final steps of the ritual are performed for all of the guests.

Someone brings out the nearly completed dish. It lets off steam in the chill morning air, clearly fresh from the kitchens. It’s still too dark to tell exactly what it is, but Obi-Wan would hazard a guess that it is some kind of pastry.

Ruus and Chana work together to put finishing touches on it, carefully putting on decorative toppings and sprinkling powdered sugar on top.

“Together we have made this juniberry pie,” Chana says, when they are done. 

“And together we will continue to make our future together,” Ruus finishes, and the two of them link hands and smile. The guests cheer and applaud.

There is a brief break for tables to be set up, but soon there are seats and food spread out for a large feast. It’s an even more extravagant spread than what had been available the day before—there had been mostly lighter foods then, portioned into small quantities. This is the main meal of the wedding, and it’s very obvious.

“Here,” Jango says, nudging Obi-Wan. He’s offering a plate of pie.

Obi-Wan takes it. “Thanks.” 

The pie is very good, sweet and tart with a delicate crust. Simple, but luxurious in the way that food with a lot of care put in can be. Obi-Wan can see why the couple had chosen it for their wedding.

“”Do you know what it means?” Jango asks. “I mean, all these foods all have symbolic meaning, don’t they?”

Obi-Wan nods. “I’m not sure what they are; I didn’t have time beforehand to learn.”

“That sucks,” Jango says, and Obi-Wan laughs.

“I would have expected you to tease me for wanting to learn such details.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t try to deny it,” he says, but he’s even as he says it he’s smiling, reaching over to steal a piece of fruit off Jango’s plate.

—

“Dance with me?” 

People have started to finish their food, and though many are staying where they are, there are some now at the center of the courtyard, which has been converted into a dance floor. 

Jango frowns. “I don’t really know how to dance, Obi-Wan.”

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan assures. “Look, there are plenty of people who don’t know either.” He nods towards one couple, who are just standing and swaying in place at the edge of the dancefloor.

“Alright then,” Jango says, and takes his hand.

The first song is slow, and Obi-Wan leads Jango through a waltz, an easy dance that even Jango had learned at one point. It doesn’t take long for him to fall into step, only stumbling a few times.

Then the music changes, speeding up and shifting into a more unfamiliar tune. Many of the Selian guests light up, and Obi-Wan also sees several politicians, unsure how to dance to this new song, slip off the dancefloor. 

Jango makes a move to leave as well, but Obi-Wan catches his sleeve. “Stay,” he says. “I want to dance.”

He’s always loved dancing—the ways dances can vary between cultures and planets and species, but also what he feels in the Force during large dances like these, and the way the movements let him slip into something like a moving meditation. It’s soothing.

“Alright,” Jango sighs, but he’s projecting fondness into the Force.

This particular dance is one that Obi-Wan doesn’t know, but he and Jango move with the others on the floor, following their lead. The footwork is repetitive and fairly simple, and it doesn’t take long for Obi-Wan to pick up the steps. 

“Switch!” someone yells out, and the crowd shifts, couples breaking apart and turning to those next to them. He follows their lead, and before long, he and Jango are separated by half the dance floor. 

Obi-Wan catches his eye, and Jango stumbles, almost stepping on his partner’s toes. He snorts. Despite Jango’s excellent fighting ability, somehow that has never translated to dancing. 

“Friend’s a bad dancer?” the person he’s dancing with asks, and Obi-Wan nods. They smile. “It’s always fun to find the ones with two left feet with this song.”

“I can imagine,” he says. “Do you have any friends here like that?”

There’s a call to switch before they can answer, but as Obi-Wan turns away to find another partner, they nod and say, “I don’t think he’s as bad as your friend, though!”

Obi-Wan laughs, and loses himself in the dancing. There are several people struggling to keep up, not just Jango—he can feel their frustration in the Force, but nobody’s still on the floor that isn’t enjoying themselves as well. He lets the joy, the  _ belonging _ , wash over him and relaxes.

It takes another three switches before he ends up back with Jango, though the time between each is relatively short. He’s still stumbling a little, but he’s mostly just given up on getting the footwork right and is just stepping wherever the dance needs them to go.

“How are you doing that?” Jango demands, and Obi-Wan laughs. 

“Doing what? This is hardly difficult, darling,” he says, just to get a rise out of Jango, who mock-scowls. 

“You must be cheating,” he says. “There’s no other explanation.”

“I assure you I am not.”

He is, a little. There are some who are focusing on their steps, and projecting that into the Force, but it doesn’t matter. 

They switch again. This time, it takes five rounds before he and Jango are partnered again, and even Jango has picked up on enough of the dance to at least look like he knows what he’s doing.

“Hello again, darling,” Obi-Wan says.

“Hi,” Jango says, breathless. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“More than I have since this wedding started,” Obi-Wan says honestly. 

“Good,” Jango says. “You deserve it.”

Obi-Wan nods. It’s a sentiment Jango has expressed many times, though he’s not sure why he’s bringing it up now—apparently, he has a tendency to undervalue himself, or so he claims. Obi-Wan has given up trying to argue the point.

It’s after that round that the dance ends. It’s nearing midday, and the end of the wedding, and there is still one more dance. The married dance.

It’s not an official tradition, but it happens at almost all weddings now, Obi-Wan knows. The last dance of the day is for the newlyweds. 

Theirs is a simple dance, nothing particularly new or outlandish. It makes sense, after the extravagance of some of the other parts of the wedding. Ruus and xer spouse slowdance, and as the sun reaches its zenith, they kiss. 

The wedding is over.

—

“Well,” Obi-Wan says, the moment they’re back in the relative privacy of the rooms they’ve been assigned, “That was certainly one of the most interesting missions I’ve had in a long time.”

"Yeah," Jango says. "I—thank you for this, Obi-Wan. I doubt this was what you had in mind when you were assigned a wedding by your Council."

"You’re quite welcome, dear," Obi-Wan says. "You know I care for you. I'm glad I was able to help with this.”

“I—” Jango is staring at him, his expression unbearably soft. "Can I -"

He doesn't finish the sentence, just steps forward and tilts Obi-Wan's head down toward him, then leans forward and kisses him.

For a moment, Obi-Wan is frozen. Jango isn't forceful, and the kiss is soft, chaste, but he finds himself unable to move. They're in private, there is no need to pretend to be in love. Which means…

Oh. Oh no.

He takes a step back, breaking the kiss. “Jango, what are you doing?”

"Kissing you?" Jango says.

“I know that, but—why?”

“Because,” Jango says. “Because you’re kind, and beautiful, and I love spending time with you and hearing you talk. Because I’m in love with you.”

“I don’t get into relationships,” he says. He’s sure he’s told Jango this before. Hasn’t he mentioned this before?

Jango looks just as confused. “But last night you said—”

Obi-Wan tries desperately to remember what they’d talked about last night, to give Jango the impression that he’s interested in a relationship with him, but comes up empty. They’d talked about the Jedi and relationships, not his personal feelings. 

But when he tells Jango this, he frowns. “I thought you were including yourself in that.” 

"I wasn’t," he says softly. “I didn’t even know you were—that you had feelings for me. I’m sorry.”

And he is. He knows that romance is important to most people, and that Jango is one of them. But he also knows that he can’t be in a relationship with him.

Jango’s not looking at him anymore. “Right,” he says. “I’m sorry, as well. I’m going to—” He makes a vague gesture and then disappears into the bedroom.

—

The rest of the day is unbearably awkward. They spend as much time as they can avoiding each other, going their separate ways to pack their belongings.

By the time Obi-Wan is ready and has said his goodbyes to the Senator and any other guests important enough to warrant his attention, he sends a comm to Jango.  _ I'm ready to go whenever you are. Shall we meet on the ship in two hours? _

He doesn't send anything back, though the comm displays that Jango has read the message. Obi-Wan's not sure how to respond to that—he supposes he can just wait at the ship for Jango.

Exactly two hours after Obi-Wan had first sent the message, Jango appears in the hangar. He doesn't make eye contact with him as they prepare the navigation systems, or as they take off, and once they're in hyperspace, Jango moves to leave once again. Obi-Wan is abruptly terrified that they'll spend the rest of the trip avoiding each other. That they'll never get past this.

"Jango."

He turns back. "What?"

"Can we please not do this?" Obi-Wan asks. "I know I didn't respond the way you wanted, when you kissed me. But I didn't mean it to be a rejection of  _ you _ , Jango. I don’t want our previous relationship to disappear because of this."

Jango looks away. “I don’t know, Obi-Wan. I need time.”

Obi-Wan’s stomach clenches. “That’s fine,” he says. Lies. “I just…please, Jango.”

All of his usual eloquence has fled in the face of this. He can only make this plea, and hope that Jango can even begin to understand how afraid he is.

“Right,” Jango says, uncertain. “I care about you too, you know. I guess I just assumed that you felt the same way as I did.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. He still doesn’t understand where Jango got that impression from, but that’s not important right now. “I don’t,” he says. “I never have, and I never will.”

“Right,” Jango says again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan says, and it’s not a lie. He doesn’t begrudge Jango for his feelings. “It’s not personal. I just don’t feel the same way.” He shrugs. “I would prefer if you didn’t kiss me again, though. That wasn’t something I particularly enjoyed.”

Jango laughs. It’s not the easy laugh that he makes when he’s with friends, but it also doesn’t carry the forced awkwardness that Obi-Wan is afraid of. “Of course,” he says. “I can do that.”

He smiles. “Then I’m sure we can move past this.”

It won’t be perfect immediately, he knows. Obi-Wan doesn’t have a lot of experience with romantic feelings, but that is something he is reasonably sure of. Still, he’s fairly sure he won’t be losing this friendship, and that’s good enough for now.

—

_ epilogue _ :

Jango reaches across the diner table and steals one of his fries. “Are you sure you don’t want me to beat them up?”

“Darling, what have I told you about stealing food?” Obi-Wan asks, laughing. “And no, please don’t. We don’t need another diplomatic incident.”

“Okay, okay,” Jango says, holding his hands up. “No promises on the stealing, though.” He reaches out, and Obi-Wan smacks his hand away.

He glances over at Anakin, who is watching them, chewing on his paper smoothie straw. “I apologize for him.”

Anakin shrugs, then takes the straw out of his mouth. “Master Obi-Wan?”

“Hm?”

“Are you and Jango dating?”

Jango immediately bursts out laughing. Obi-Wan sighs. It’s the fourth time he’s been asked that, though it’s the first time he’s asked in front of Jango. 

“No, we are not,” he says. “I’m not sure why you keep asking; the answer hasn’t changed since you last asked.”

Anakin shrugs. “You’re just so…” he makes a vague gesture in the air, as if that will clarify anything. “I don’t know. You act like a couple.”

“I can assure you that we are not,” Obi-Wan says. “Nor are we interested in getting together. I’m aromantic—if you hear of me dating someone, you can assume I have been replaced by an imposter.”

Anakin laughs and holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.” He’s silent for a moment, then frowns and asks, “Wait, then why did Senator Ruus say the two of you were married?”

Jango laughs again, and Obi-Wan sighs. He knew this would come back to haunt them eventually. “That,” he says, “is a story for another time.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments fuel me! this is a more personal fic for me and i'd love to hear your thoughts lmao
> 
> you can find me over on tumblr at [ternaryflower53](https://ternaryflower53.tumblr.com)! feel free to talk to me, i don't bite


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